Approximately two months ago, on day 67 of the lockdown, I began to meditate more seriously, a resolve which has been assiduously followed. What have I learned in the interim?
1.
There are two things that I do spectacularly well. When I sit in meditation, which I've been doing longer and more frequently, I observe plain air going through my nostrils and into my lungs. After it accomplishes its ancient business of respiration, it exits, albeit modified, just as mysteriously as it entered. In and out, in and out; in my 76th year of life, I still do this with the same expertise I did when I started.
And, a fact which thoroughly delights me, I do this no better or worse than you. You might sing better than me, I might sing better than you; you might have more or fewer friends; no matter your circumstances or mine, we are expert breathers. Why isn't this enough?
2.
Before the covid epidemic, I did some volunteer work with a hospice program. The patient whom I visited, first every week, than more frequently as he got sicker, had had a tough life. At age 18, he had witnessed the murder of his mother by strangulation at the hands of his father. He was raised in a very tough neighborhood; once as a young man, he remained hospitalized for three months, having been an accidental victim of a drive-by shooting. The worst time in his life, he told me, was when he was homeless for a year in Baltimore; he said he was very near hopeless during the brutal winter of this homeless year. That was the only time in his life during which he had occasional suicidal ideation.
Talk about a reactive depression.! Otherwise, he--I will call him Mr. C-- was remarkably upbeat. Saved by social workers, he lived in public housing for the last two and a half decades of his life. He was a social worker's dream--he never complained, and never used drugs.
If you ever got to know this champion breather, you would never waste your breath again.
Being an artsy guy, I asked him what his favorite piece of music was. It was "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted" by the Temptations:
He listened to this beautiful song on his phone over and over. It reminded him of his mother, to whom he had been very attached.
Mr. C was an amazing, unforgettable person. Everyone in the nursing home loved him. So many of the other patients complained; Mr. C. never complained.
As he was dying, I increased my frequency of visits. The last time, the day he died, he could no longer talk. I was well aware that he could still hear me--at least I thought so. Still feeling a bit guilty that I was not at my mother's side when she passed away in 2001, I shut the door, vowing to stay by his side until his last breath.
I closed the door, and kept on singing softy gospel tunes I knew he would know. How many times I sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," I'll never know. Eventually a soft death rattle became apparent. As his lungs filled with fluid, I raised my singing voice level, and continued. I'll never forget the last breath of this wonderful, gentle man. His suffering was almost over; his face relaxed.
Mr. C. had been an expert breather for nearly sixty-five years. I will miss his expertise forever.
Mr. C. had led a simple life. He was not a doctor, lawyer or accountant; he was not a mailman, salesperson or clerk. He had earned some supplemental income when he could, by helping a friend of his paint houses. Yet Mr. C., in my book, was a towering figure. Nearly everyone could learn a lot from him. One of his favorite sayings was "Go with the flow"--the current of life kept him afloat for years with hardly a complaint on his part.
As I witnessed his final breath, I realized why the ancient Hebrews thought that breath and soul were one. G-d had breathed the soulbreath, the ruach adonai, into Adam's nostrils. We humans begin breathing at the first cry, and end it as we breathe our last.
3.
Meditation is a wonderful way for us to know that breathing is enough. You can always fall back on it periodically; it will support you; it will make you wiser. Yes, do what you do best as best you can, but, in this highly competitive world, if you sometimes think you have failed, do what you do best with unquestionable expertise: breathing.
Buddhism, (and science), with its doctrine of anatta, "no soul," denies the existence of an eternal soul, even in this life. The ego is a fiction! If your id is doing a number on you, remember it has no more substance than the Wizard of Oz. Peak behind the curtain--smile, and realize what a fool you've been listening to him rather than listening to your own breath.
Thank you, plants, for the oxygen. Thank you, universe, for the privilege of meditation. Who focuses on breath begins to clear the hot air that has condensed into faulty thoughts. It might take some time to achieve tranquility, but, if one is persistent, one will be rewarded, After all, you've been breathing for a lifetime. Becoming truly aware of what you're doing is the best way to become aware of what truly is.
Choose life, as the ancients taught us. Choose relationships, not love of money or fame. Chose wisdom, not distractions, of which there are many. Once again, choose life! Periods of silence, focusing on breath, refining periods of action, focusing on deeds--
Just live justly. Breathe!
1.
There are two things that I do spectacularly well. When I sit in meditation, which I've been doing longer and more frequently, I observe plain air going through my nostrils and into my lungs. After it accomplishes its ancient business of respiration, it exits, albeit modified, just as mysteriously as it entered. In and out, in and out; in my 76th year of life, I still do this with the same expertise I did when I started.
And, a fact which thoroughly delights me, I do this no better or worse than you. You might sing better than me, I might sing better than you; you might have more or fewer friends; no matter your circumstances or mine, we are expert breathers. Why isn't this enough?
2.
Before the covid epidemic, I did some volunteer work with a hospice program. The patient whom I visited, first every week, than more frequently as he got sicker, had had a tough life. At age 18, he had witnessed the murder of his mother by strangulation at the hands of his father. He was raised in a very tough neighborhood; once as a young man, he remained hospitalized for three months, having been an accidental victim of a drive-by shooting. The worst time in his life, he told me, was when he was homeless for a year in Baltimore; he said he was very near hopeless during the brutal winter of this homeless year. That was the only time in his life during which he had occasional suicidal ideation.
Talk about a reactive depression.! Otherwise, he--I will call him Mr. C-- was remarkably upbeat. Saved by social workers, he lived in public housing for the last two and a half decades of his life. He was a social worker's dream--he never complained, and never used drugs.
If you ever got to know this champion breather, you would never waste your breath again.
Being an artsy guy, I asked him what his favorite piece of music was. It was "What Becomes of the Broken Hearted" by the Temptations:
He listened to this beautiful song on his phone over and over. It reminded him of his mother, to whom he had been very attached.
Mr. C was an amazing, unforgettable person. Everyone in the nursing home loved him. So many of the other patients complained; Mr. C. never complained.
As he was dying, I increased my frequency of visits. The last time, the day he died, he could no longer talk. I was well aware that he could still hear me--at least I thought so. Still feeling a bit guilty that I was not at my mother's side when she passed away in 2001, I shut the door, vowing to stay by his side until his last breath.
I closed the door, and kept on singing softy gospel tunes I knew he would know. How many times I sang "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot," I'll never know. Eventually a soft death rattle became apparent. As his lungs filled with fluid, I raised my singing voice level, and continued. I'll never forget the last breath of this wonderful, gentle man. His suffering was almost over; his face relaxed.
Mr. C. had been an expert breather for nearly sixty-five years. I will miss his expertise forever.
Mr. C. had led a simple life. He was not a doctor, lawyer or accountant; he was not a mailman, salesperson or clerk. He had earned some supplemental income when he could, by helping a friend of his paint houses. Yet Mr. C., in my book, was a towering figure. Nearly everyone could learn a lot from him. One of his favorite sayings was "Go with the flow"--the current of life kept him afloat for years with hardly a complaint on his part.
As I witnessed his final breath, I realized why the ancient Hebrews thought that breath and soul were one. G-d had breathed the soulbreath, the ruach adonai, into Adam's nostrils. We humans begin breathing at the first cry, and end it as we breathe our last.
3.
Meditation is a wonderful way for us to know that breathing is enough. You can always fall back on it periodically; it will support you; it will make you wiser. Yes, do what you do best as best you can, but, in this highly competitive world, if you sometimes think you have failed, do what you do best with unquestionable expertise: breathing.
Buddhism, (and science), with its doctrine of anatta, "no soul," denies the existence of an eternal soul, even in this life. The ego is a fiction! If your id is doing a number on you, remember it has no more substance than the Wizard of Oz. Peak behind the curtain--smile, and realize what a fool you've been listening to him rather than listening to your own breath.
Thank you, plants, for the oxygen. Thank you, universe, for the privilege of meditation. Who focuses on breath begins to clear the hot air that has condensed into faulty thoughts. It might take some time to achieve tranquility, but, if one is persistent, one will be rewarded, After all, you've been breathing for a lifetime. Becoming truly aware of what you're doing is the best way to become aware of what truly is.
Choose life, as the ancients taught us. Choose relationships, not love of money or fame. Chose wisdom, not distractions, of which there are many. Once again, choose life! Periods of silence, focusing on breath, refining periods of action, focusing on deeds--
Just live justly. Breathe!
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